The queen gazed upon the bowed head before her. Any number of emotions rushed through her body and she felt each one with blinding intensity. And so she sat silent as she willed her body to come back under her own command. Deep sadness that her husband would have this Boleyn girl join her court. Anger. Jealousy. Anger again. Her body could not have appeared more rigid if she had been facing death in the eyes of a wild animal.
Her dark eyes had taken in the essentially bland face of this Anne as she had walked into her sitting room. The young woman had ignored all of the eyes staring at her as she had entered the room and immediately fallen to the ground before the queen and bowed her head, waiting to be accepted into this prestigious inner circle.
Could she accept her? The girl's mother and sister had both dallied with her husband, she knew well enough. But they had been prettier than this one. Surely, Henry's eyes would not be tempted by one so plain as Anne Boleyn. Still, Catherine's stare bore into the top of Anne's head. While beauty was no risk, there was a different air about her.
For a moment, Catherine's eyes scanned the room around her. The women lined the walls, at least two deep. It seemed every one of her maids had come today, crowding her rooms, to see what their queen would do. She sat in her place of honour, raised slightly above the other women, and she could see how their eyes darted from the girl to herself.
Catherine's mouth had gone dry and she worked her tongue to gain some moisture, making a grimace that she imagined showed her emotions quite plainly to those in attendance. Catherine could usually mask her broken heart and raging anger quite well, but in this moment she couldn't hide it.
"Another Boleyn girl among us?" she whispered to the room.
A few titters escaped the women who stood with open fascination to see how this meeting would progress.
Catherine sat quietly for a few moments longer. Anne had still not raised her eyes. Perhaps she knew, then. Perhaps she knew her place.
"And you, Anne Boleyn. Have you anything to say to your queen?"
"My queen, I am but your servant," Anne replied still looking at the floor.
"And your loyalty?"
"I am of the firm belief that we women must be loyal to one another, my queen."
Catherine's eyes softened ever so slightly. These words were a salve to her soul. Perhaps, then, this one would be different. It wasn't as if she didn't expect Henry to have mistresses. She did. But it hurt nonetheless since she did love him and had been a faithful wife and servant for almost twenty years.
"You come highly recommended from my dear friend Queen Claude. She mentioned that you can sing beautifully." Claude had said a great many wonderful this about the girl before her. Somehow she had gained a high regard and although Catherine felt confident in her mind about her friend's judgment, her heart still held some hesitation.
"I can sing, my queen."
"What other skills do you have?"
More giggles from those standing nearby. Catherine silenced them with a hard look. Such innuendo was not something that impressed her.
"I can play the lute and the harp, in addition to chess and checkers. Sewing, of course and writing."
"That is quite enough. I suppose, then, you might play a song for me?"
"I would love to," Anne smiled at the floor.
"Very well, then, Anne. You may rise."
Anne finally looked up and met the eyes of the formidable queen before her. She took in her light reddish hair and sky-blue eyes. She had been a princess of Spain, originally married, though briefly, to the King's own older brother. Shortly after his death, Henry had married her as well, quoting the bible as justification for the action. But truly, everyone knew, that he had loved her from their first meeting.
The queen gestured to the lute sitting on a corner bench. "Let me hear what you can play."
"It would be my great honour." Anne rose and made her way to the lute. She sat on the bench and held the instrument lightly in her hands. Strumming gently, she began to sing a song that had been a favourite of Queen Claude's. Her voice rose in its pleasant timbre and she closed her eyes as she gave herself over to the music. Many years ago, she had learned that the best performers forgot those around them, feeling the music to their very core. It had taken much practice to allow herself to enter into this place, but her audience always seemed to appreciate her passion and genuine performances.
When the song was finished, she opened her eyes and looked to her queen, as did every set of eyes in the room. It had been a beautiful performance, touching many of the woman. Why, some even wiped a tear from their eye.
Catherine met Anne's eyes with a smile she did not feel in her heart. Here it is then, she thought. It is not beauty. No. It is something more in this one. Despite herself, her gaze faltered as she looked away from Anne with some despair. With a slow blink of realization, she swallowed hard, pushing down a feeling of disappointment she couldn't quite explain. Then she forced her eyes to Anne's once more.
"That was beautiful," she said. "Perhaps you can continue to play while we get our sewing out for the afternoon. There are several orphans in the church who need stalkings. It is our mission to ensure no child goes without." Catherine took in Anne's surprised expression. "Charitable works are God's will, Miss Boleyn. Here in my court, we are lucky enough to be able to serve the poor."
Anne bowed her head graciously to her queen and then met her eyes once more. "I am lucky to be so close to you, my queen, where I can be of such service." She then picked up the lute once more and began to sing another song, more softly this time as Catherine directed the other ladies to their tasks. It was soothing to work with such a lovely voice in the room. Catherine smiled, genuinely this time, as she picked up her needle and set to work on a new shirt for her dear Henry.
~~
While Anne worked her way into the good graces of Catherine, Millie encountered her sweet choir boy as she was about to enter her special hidden room. "My dear boy," Millie greeted him with happy surprise. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"
This was a lie. The boy was growing rather unpleasant, if one was to be honest. He had stopped bathing on a regular basis and his hair was growing long and was sticking to his forehead. His shoulders slumped and his clothes were in a constant state of dishevelment. He didn't smile and refused to meet the eyes of anyone, constantly looking away. He was becoming quite...shifty.
As Millie took in his state, she decided that if he was to be of any use to her at all, she had to interfere. He was obviously not coping well with his situation. She had realized he was angry with Wolsey, but she hadn't truly realised that he was being destroyed by the Cardinal. After all, she reasoned, there were many young men who seemed to enjoy the attentions of their priests. How was she to know?
However, it was plain to see now that her helper was not doing well.
"I have intercepted a letter to our bird."
"Bird?"
"The...cardinal. Bird."
"Ah, clever," she said with a smile.
"I have a letter to the bird from the Earl of Ormond. I thought we could use it...you know...to make him beg for death." A bit of spittle flew from his mouth as he spat the word 'beg'. It hit Millie's cheek and she swallowed down her gag reflex.
"Has he read it?"
"Yes. I took it from his desk a few minutes ago."
"Very interesting, indeed. May I take it?"
"I can't read well enough to understand all of it. But I saw your mistress's name. I thought you might want to see it." He handed it over to her waiting hands.
"You did well, young one."
"Peter. Please call me Peter."
"Of course, Peter." Damn it all, now he has a name, Millie thought.
"I will keep my eyes open for any other papers such as these."
"Very good, then." Millie paused as she considered her next move. "Peter, come and find me in the morning. I will have something for you. Something to make your situation more bearable."
Peter looked at Millie with surprise. "I thought you said that I had to continue this way to...make him beg for death?"
"Yes, but sometimes even the strongest of us need some relief, Peter. I will make it so that you can have that relief when you need it."
Peter smiled the smallest little bit. He nodded as he turned to leave her.
"And Peter?"
He turned to look back at her.
"Peter, take a bath. You smell terribly."
He looked down at himself as if her words made him realize for the first time how dirty he was. "You're right, lady, I am filthy. I will bathe tonight. I will see you on the morrow, then."
"On the morrow," Millie said as she turned away from him. On to my next potion, Millie thought with a new lightness in her step. Sometimes it felt good to relieve the suffering of others. She clutched the letter in her hand. He deserved a bit of peace after delivering this missive. She was sure it held something of interest for her.
The evening was spent with Circle watching over her as Millie made a special potion for one cardinal Wolsey, the pervert who preyed on unsuspecting choir boys. Well, she corrected, maybe not unsuspecting at this point. Nevertheless...
She was satisfied when she had several vials to hand over to Peter in the morning. With one of these added to his drink, the Cardinal would perform much as her own last lover had. She grinned as she thought of Wolsey unable to take his pleasure. She wished she could see his face when the understanding of his embarrassment dawned upon him. Millie let out a cackle of delight as she placed the potions in her skirts. What a delightful night.
Still smiling, she opened the letter and her grin grew even wider.